


Suffer Well

by Lothiriel84



Series: Useless [3]
Category: The Bunker (Podcast)
Genre: Backstory, Gen, I Don't Even Know, Medical Inaccuracies, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 21:09:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12117294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothiriel84/pseuds/Lothiriel84
Summary: I just hang onSuffer wellSometimes it's hardIt's hard to tell





	Suffer Well

He found himself standing in the middle of a vast expanse of black sand, without any recollection of how he’d got there, let alone why. He tried to retrace his steps to the safety of their underground bunker, somehow realised he wasn’t alone after all.

‘Who are you?’ he shouted, his words drowned in the wailing sound of the wind. ‘Show yourself.’

But when he turned around, the looming presence was nowhere to be seen. His fingers tightened around the gun he always carried in his pocket, loaded, and ready to fire.

Gravel crunched as the unseen stranger took another step forward; he fired a shot, then another, the noise echoing hollowly through the thickening fog – how had he failed to notice the fog before?

He heard a dull thud, as if that of a limp body hitting the ground, and then nothing.

A strange dread started creeping down his bones, as he peered through the mist at the lump of clothes lying there, amongst the swirling dust. The wind hadn’t abated, but the fog was getting denser and denser with every passing moment, and he felt the sudden impulse to start running, though he didn’t know where to. His feet dragged him towards the body instead, and he wished he could stop himself, wished he could just look away.

He watched himself in horror as his hands peeled away the rag that covered the man’s face – except that it wasn’t a man at all, and he fell to his knees, screaming with the searing pain that suddenly pierced his chest.

The scene faded away, just as he tried to reach for his wife’s dead body; it was dark, and stifling, and he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. He didn’t want to die, a small part of his brain cried over the ringing in his ears; he loathed himself, loathed everything about his current life, yet was too much of a coward to let go.

“David – David, can you hear me? Just breathe, okay? You’re going to be fine.”

The words didn’t make sense to him, nor could he place the vaguely familiar voice that had spoken them; his heart was beating too fast, and he was trembling, spinning, gasping for air.

“I’m going to count to two – one, two – breathe in. One, two – breathe out. You’re doing great, David, it’ll be over soon. Stop standing there, Tom, and bring me a wet flannel.”

“Oh. Right, sure.”

There was the sound of hurried footsteps, then after an indefinite amount of time something cold and wet made contact with his neck. He broke out in a cold sweat, blindly tried to shove the other person away.

“Sorry, sorry. Should’ve asked. I won’t touch you again if you don’t want me to.”

“Dave?” he gasped, his own voice sounding like it didn’t belong to him at all.

“Yeah, it’s me. You’re safe, David – we’re all safe in here.”

The bunker, yes. They were inside their underground prison, it was fine – they were all fine. He wasn’t aware he’d reached for Dave’s hand until he felt his pulse under his fingertips, focussed on it until his own heart rate started to slow down.

He couldn’t have killed his wife, she’d been dead for decades now; he was all alone in this nightmare of a new world, except for those two idiots it was his job to keep alive.

He took in a shaky breath, tugged at the sleeves of Dave’s shirt until he found himself enveloped in an awkward embrace, too exhausted to even be embarrassed about it.

Everything was fine.


End file.
